Page 43 of Destino

This time laughter exploded from him. He lifted his palm and put his hands up in surrender. Mira smirked. She stayed close, however, to emphasize her point. Lowering her hands, she felt the light brush of her nipples over his chest and knew he did too. “Besides we can eat anywhere.”

“I think it best we join them.”

She didn’t hide her disappointment. Her lip dropped in a pout. He winked at her and ran the backs of his fingers over her cheek. Funny, earlier she told Fabiana she had no intentions of being alone with the man again. Oh yes, as usual her mind and desires were at odds. She lifted her gaze from his lips to stare into his beautiful eyes again. This time she wouldn’t retreat from him like a schoolgirl. Giovanni extended his hand to her. She accepted it, allowing him to lead the way. His palm was warm and large. It covered her entire hand. She felt a sense of protectiveness in the way he assumed the lead. Together they walked down the stairwell, wide enough for them to descend side by side. Below she found the hall and the dining room to be empty, but a very romantic setting with blue roses and candles were placed as the centerpiece. Mira stared at the fresh blooms, curious of their history with his family. When he drew out her chair she only half hesitated. Where were Fabiana and Lorenzo? Before she could ask, her friend sashayed in from the other end of the dining room. She blinked at Giovanni, then at her, and the romantic place setting for four.

“Everything okay?” Mira asked.

“Oh yes. Lorenzo’s changing. The man was covered in dirt and mud. He said his car broke down, and he had to borrow a motorbike to make it back up the hill.”

“Car trouble?” Giovanni asked.

Fabiana nodded. “He’ll join us soon.”

Giovanni’s attention returned to Mira. Her eyes were constantly drawn to his. Fabiana’s arrival was quite a relief. The wine poured and food was brought to the table on silver platters and in large shiny red and yellow ceramic serving bowls. Mira heaped pasta and a meaty sauce onto her plate, keeping her focus singular. Eat, drink, that is all. She managed it for a few moments until he spoke.

“So where did you ladies go today?”

“Everywhere. Our driver was pretty good.” Fabiana answered.

She felt his stare and looked up. It was clear he could care less what Fabiana said and was more interested in hearing the details from her. “We found some boutiques and did some sightseeing.”

“I wish I had the pleasure, to show you more of Bellagio.” He forked a large portion of the dinner in his mouth, chewing.

I wish you had the pleasure too. Mira sipped her wine.

“Is it true? You found her purse?” Fabiana asked.

Giovanni stopped mid chew. He looked to Fabiana and his expression stilled. Mira frowned at his reaction. It wasn’t a secret. Why did he glare at her friend as if it were none of her business? The silence at the table felt awkward so she interceded. “He had it brought to me. It was very nice of you Giovanni. To go through the trouble.”

He continued to eat. Fabiana shot her a quizzical look.

“I hear your family name quite a bit in Napoli. You’re very respected.” Fabiana began again. “One of the most powerful families in the Campania?”

“What’s the Campania?” Mira asked, with a nervous chuckle. Why her friend’s questions of him made her nervous she wasn’t sure. It was more of an underlying feeling she got from Giovanni’s silence.

“It’s the region of southern Italy where Napoli is. Our new home.”

“Oh.” Mira feared for a moment that Fabiana would mention the mob. God, she prayed not. The tension at the table was already so thick she found it hard to catch a good breath.

“Are you the Godfather?” Fabiana chuckled.

Giovanni continued to chew, but the action seemed more mechanical than organic. His hooded gaze lifted from his plate and locked on Fabiana. Mira braced for a response.

“You think this term Godfather applies to me?” Giovanni picked up his wine and sipped. “Why do you think this?”

“I’m asking a question. Does the term ‘Godfather’ apply to you?”

“I’ve seen the movie.” Giovanni sneered. He sat back in his chair and cocked his head giving Fabiana his undivided attention. “Bella?” It was clear when he said the word,bella, he addressed her and not Fabiana. Though his gaze never wavered from her friend. “We’ve spent some time together today. I’m curious as to what you think?” he switched his focus to Mira. “Am I what you Americans call the Godfather?”

Why is he asking me?

Giovanni waited. Fabiana gave her an apologetic shrug. Both of them stared directly at her.

Mira cleared her throat.

“I think the movie was all fiction, a story steeped in some cultural references that Americans associate with Italians. Seriously, what does Godfather mean anyway?”

“The term has meaning. For both Sicilians and Italians. Many of our families have deep roots in the Catholic Church. The Sacrament of Baptism is where it comes from. It’s where the church baptizes for the remission of sin and the family appoints a trustworthy person to oversee the welfare of the most innocent. A child. Sponsores, offerentes, susceptores, fidejussores,this is whatwe consider a godparent. Am I one? I am, for many children, a blessing from many families to have been requested to sponsor the life of their child before the holy sacrament. It’s my honor. Why you Americans want to sully the term and associate it with organized crime is beyond me. I guess you, Signora,” his gaze swiveled to Fabiana. “Watch too much TV.”

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